


Eyes Open

by ForgedByFire



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 8x02 SPOILERS, 8x03 spoilers, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Post battle of Winterfell, Rating May Change, Season 8
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-10 17:04:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18664642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForgedByFire/pseuds/ForgedByFire
Summary: After the Battle of Winterfell, Gendry and Arya search for each other and attempt to understand just how much each other means to them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Gendrya has captured my heart since season 3, and they have inspired me to write my first ever fic! This season is giving me so much life! I tried to catch all the typos, but sorry for any mistakes! I mostly wrote this for me because I love them so much, but I love reading all of your works too so I wanted to share with you all. I hope all my fellow Gendrya stans enjoy! More chapters to come!

Gendry was losing strength. There were too many wights surrounding him and Tormund as they stood atop a pile of decaying bodies, desperately fighting for their lives. He knew they wouldn’t be able to hold them off for much longer. Gendry wasn’t particularly afraid of dying, but he was afraid of what he might become. He watched in horror as the faces of men who stood who stood by his side moments ago we now lunging for his throat.

He couldn’t stomach the thought of becoming one of them. He didn’t want to think about who he might hurt. It was only a few hours before when he truly realized what he had to lose in this war. But he couldn’t think too much about that now. He had to focus on every single swing of his hammer. He couldn’t let himself think about her…

Suddenly he felt a sharp pain in his shoulder. He felt himself being dragged down to his knees as wights started to grab him all over. Gendry struggled against them, but he knew he would be among the dead soon. Stormy grey eyes flashed in his mind, and an immeasurable wave of regret overcame him. He shut his eyes.

But death didn’t come. All at once the pressure from countless skeletal hands was released from his body. He opened his eyes and watched, astonished, as every single one of the dead dropped to the ground, still.

There was a moment of eyrie silence across the courtyard as the survivors realized what was happening. Then, the noise was deafening. Cries of joy, terror, relief. People shouting names of friends and family, and people sobbing. Dying men crying out in pain. Gendry’s ears were ringing. He couldn’t form a single thought over all the noise.

 All he could think of were the beautiful grey eyes that were burned in his mind. That was all that mattered. He needed to know those eyes were still open, that they hadn’t turned to ice cold blue. He felt himself starting to panic, but forced himself to keep at least a little composure. It took all of his remaining strength to bury his fears as deep as he could He needed to focus. He needed to find her.

 “Arya,” he whispered under his breath. His hammer fell to the ground as he climbed off the pile of dead men. He started scanning the crowd, becoming more and more frantic. Ignoring the stabbing pain in his shoulder, he quickly made his way through the castle. Desperately searching for any sign.

 He spotted Sansa’s striking red hair in the distance, having just emerged from the crypts moments ago. She smiled as she saw her brother Jon limp towards her, and Gendry watched them embrace. He was glad that they made it out okay, but his heart dropped as he looked around and saw no sign of Arya nearby.

 He heard someone call his name and he turned around and saw The Hound walking over to him.

 “Arya?” Gendry asked, hardly masking the desperation in his voice.

 The Hound shook his head. “I was with her earlier in the great room. The Red Woman spoke to her and she ran off after. I don’t know where she ended up.”

 A new wave of panic struck him and he became distraught. _Bran_ , he thought, _she must have gone to protect Bran._ Leaving The Hound without another word he set off towards the Godswood.

 He had almost made it to the edge of the castle when he saw it.

 Gendry stopped dead in his tracks.

 His heart shattered into a million pieces.

 The weapon he had made for her was lying in the snow, covered in blood.

 He looked up and saw one of the surviving northern soldiers bringing Bran back to Winterfell from the Godswood. Arya wasn’t with him.

 Gendry dropped to his knees, picked up the pieces of the staff, and began to sob. All of the hope he felt minutes ago when the dead fell before his eyes was immediately erased. She was gone. Gendry was shaking with grief and anger. He should have never made her that weapon. He should have tried harder to convince her to stay in the crypts during the fight. He at least should have stayed by her side during the fight.

 He thought of her, dying alone. He thought of the pain she must have felt, the fear she might have had. He thought of her lifeless body, being just another piece of one of the many piles. He wanted to scream.

 He thought of her smile the night before. He thought of the warmth of her hands and the way she had kissed him, boldly and fearlessly. He thought of all the things he wanted to say, the things should have told her before the battle horns rang out. He thought of her stormy grey eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

Arya fell to the ground as the icy hand that had been holding her up shattered around her neck. The pain was so intense she thought she might collapse on the spot, but she steadied herself with each subsequent breath.

She looked up at Bran who was looking back at her with vacant eyes and an expressionless face.

“The Night King is gone,” he said.

Arya still hadn’t quite processed what had just happened. It somehow felt like the night had both lasted a thousand years and just the blink of an eye. She would have sworn she dreamt the whole thing if not for the burning pain in her neck.

_ Blue eyes you’ll shut forever, _  she remembered The Red Woman saying. But it wasn’t The Night King’s blue eyes that flashed through her mind.

Suddenly, she felt reality crash down around her, and she was left feeling hollow and cold. Everything was too still and quiet. She felt like screaming.

She needed to make sure her family was okay. She had to find Sansa and Jon. She had to make sure. The bright blue eyes flashed in her mind again, and her heart wrenched. He was her family too. She needed to find him.

Arya didn’t have the strength left to help Bran back to the castle by herself, so she made sure he would be okay and set off on her own, promising to send for someone to help him.

It was quiet as she made her way back to Winterfell. She wondered how many were among the dead, if she had even made it in time for there to be any survivors at all. She thought it had been a terribly vague description before, when he, when Gendry told her they were like death. But she knew now that he was right. There was no other way to describe the horror that she had seen.

She began to hear the shouts of survivors in the distance and grew more and more anxious. She quickened her pace as the she approached the gates to the castle. She scanned the crowd, but everyone was covered in blood and grime, and she couldn’t make out any faces she knew. She was starting to panic.

“ARYA!”

It was Sansa’s voice she heard cut across the courtyard. Arya turned towards the sound and spotted her sister running towards her. Jon was with her too, limping behind. Relief washed over her as she saw her siblings smiling at her.

Sansa pulled her into a tight hug. “I was so worried,” she said.

“It was you, wasn’t it?” Jon asked.

Arya simply nodded. Sansa’s eyes went wide and she stared at her sister in astonishment.

Arya didn’t feel like a hero. She was just trying to protect her family. Her pack. After so much time living as no one she was finally learning to how to become herself again. How to become Arya Stark. Her family was the only thing that mattered.

“Is Bran…?” Sansa began nervously. She couldn’t bear to finish the sentence.

“He’s okay. He’s still in the Godswood. I couldn’t bring back him with me, so we need to send someone for him.”

Relief washed over Sansa’s face. “Thank the Gods! I’ll go find someone,” Sansa replied and hurried off to make arrangements.

As Sansa was leaving, Jon turned and pulled her into hug. “You saved us, Arya. You saved Winterfell.” Arya felt the familiar warmth of her brother’s embrace and smiled. “Head to the castle and have someone help you with your injuries, we can talk more about what happened later. I need to find our Queen,” Jon said as they pulled apart.

“Wait, Jon!” Arya called out as he began to walk away.

“What is it?”

“Have you seen Gendry?” She called back, betraying herself. She knew Jon would question why she was asking for him, but right now she didn’t care. His blue eyes invaded her mind again and she was desperate to find him. She didn’t care if the entire Seven Kingdoms knew.

“No, I haven’t,” he replied, confusion in his voice.

Before he could ask any further questions, Arya turned away and began to search for him. She could deal with the questions later, but it felt like an eternity since she had been in his arms and she needed to feel the warmth of his skin and the touch of his strong, calloused hands.

She had been so bold the night before. Full of bravado as she teased and kissed him. Truthfully, she had been trying to mask the terror that she might betray what she really felt. Feelings she had buried deep inside for years. Feelings she had tried desperately to throw away in order to become no one.

That night she couldn’t let herself imagine a future with him or it would hurt too much. She knew he was probably dead already. He had been out on the front lines with the rest of the soldiers. He might be a fighter, but there was only so much he can withstand.

Despite all of the logical conclusions that would suggest he was dead, Arya still dared to hope as she searched the crowd of wounded men. She hesitantly scanned the piles of the dead, relieved when she didn’t see a blank pair of bright blue eyes.

But her hope turned to despair when she saw it.

Covered in blood and dirt and half buried in the ground next to a pile of bodies was his hammer.

He didn’t make it.

How stupid she had been to let herself hope. She knew it was foolish to let herself dream of a future with him. Every time she visited him in the forge and smiled as they teased each other, she knew she was playing with fire. Those thoughts were dangerous and she knew that. But she fell anyways.

She wanted to tell him. The thoughts that her stupid brain hadn’t dared let her say. As she lay next to him while he slept the night before, she had even thought about how his blue eyes might shine when she told him how she felt. She dared to hope that he might share her feelings.

But he was gone. He left her alone with her stupid thoughts. She picked up the hammer and hurled it to the ground as she wiped away angry tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to leave you with more angst (not really, I know y'all love it)! I promise there will be happiness soon though! The next chapter will take a bit longer to arrive (a girl's gotta sleep and go to work), but I hope you all enjoy it so far! Thanks for all the encouragement so far!


	3. Chapter 3

Gendry’s entire body felt numb. It should’ve been from the pain of his injuries, the utter exhaustion he felt after the long fight, or simply spending the last several hours out in the bitter northern cold. But none of that was the true cause of the emptiness he felt. 

He staggered back towards the castle, making his way through scattered groups of survivors. The faces he passed were all a blur, but he could feel their stares as he walked past. Friendly eyes of the men he fought beside smiling at him, disappointed eyes hoping he had been a missing loved one instead. There was only one pair of eyes he wanted to see right now, but he knew they wouldn’t be among the many faces he passed.

He didn’t know where he was going, but he soon found himself at the entrance to the forge, his feet having taken him there by sheer instinct. It was cold inside, and empty. The fire had long gone out. It was hard to believe that just hours ago this was the last place he truly felt warm.

Anger began to fill him as he looked around the dark, empty space. It was funny, he thought, how every single time he let himself believe he had a chance at having a family, it was instantly ripped away from him.

Gendry looked down at the two pieces of Arya’s staff he had been gripping tighter and tighter, and suddenly they felt like they were on fire. He slammed them across the room with so much force that he was panting as they hit the floor with a dull clatter.

It was at that moment that he realized he wasn’t alone. As the rods hit the ground he had heard a slight rustle of movement around one of the pillars near the corner of the room.

“Who’s there?” Gendry called out into the dark space.

The silence that followed was so convincing that Gendry nearly thought he had imagined the noise, but he made his way over towards the dim corner to check anyways. His heart stopped as he peered around the pillar.

There, in the shadows, curled up against the corner of the room, was a small body and covered in dried blood and dirt. In her delicate hands, clutched against her chest was his war hammer, still stained with blood. Her eyes were shut tight, and she was holding her breath. From the tear-stained, strained expression on her face he could tell she would rather die than be found in this state.

“Just leave me alone,” she hissed as he took a step to approach her.

“Arya-”

Her eyes shot open at the sound of his voice.  

Grey, storm ravaged eyes met blue as clear as the summer sky.

The silence between them lasted a lifetime as each was afraid that a single word might cause the illusion to vanish. Neither of them had any idea how long they were locked in this frozen state.

It was Gendry who dared to break the spell first, taking another small step closer to her.

“You lost this,” she whispered.

“What?”

“How could you be so stupid, you know you’re not good with a sword, how did you expect to stay alive if you lost your hammer?” she cried at him, much louder, as she extended the hands clutching his weapon out towards him.

“I didn’t lose it. I dropped it,” he replied, hardly processing what she was saying.

“That’s even stupider!”

“Arya, I-”

Before he could speak another word, Gendry heard his hammer clang against the ground as Arya threw herself into his arms. All of the numbness in his body melted away as every single one of his nerves came alive with the warmth of her touch. She was alive and in his arms again and nothing else mattered. Gendry barely even registered what he was doing as he took her face in his hands and kissed her.

Their kiss was frantic and messy, both of them still covered in sweat, blood, and dirt from the long night before. But it was also gentler, somehow infinitely more vulnerable than the ones they had first shared mere hours before. Last night, everything felt urgent, unspoken, fearful, like everything had to be hidden and buried away. This felt like hope, honestly, truth. Like family.

“I thought you were dead,” Arya said once they finally parted. “I thought I failed to save you.”

“Save me? I thought I failed you. That it wasn’t enough to protect you,” Gendry replied, nodding toward the two ends of the staff lying on the ground across the room.

Arya let out a little laugh and smiled at him. “Did you forget? I’ve got other weapons too like all the other rich girls.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Gendry said smiling, “I don’t know any other rich girls, mi’lady.”

“Stupid bull,” Arya teased, her grey eyes shining as she looked up at him.

But Gendry’s face fell as he finally took a better look at her. Half of her face was smeared with matted blood, like someone had bashed her head against stone. Her hands were scabbed and bruised. And when Gendry saw her neck he nearly punched the wall of the forge. An ice blue and purple handprint snaked around her neck as if it was choking her. It looked like it was frozen and burning at the same time. Even after everything he went through, this was the most horrible thing Gendry had ever seen.

“You’re hurt,” he said, his voice strained.

“So are you,” she replied, lightly touching his shoulder, causing him to wince slightly.

“It was The Night King,” she said flatly, as Gendry’s eyes didn’t leave her neck.

“What?” He replied, looking back up at her face.

“He tried to choke me, but I killed him.”

Gendry stared at her, but he didn’t feel any disbelief. It was like he somehow knew that during the years they spent apart she had grown capable of doing something so incredible. It made him feel proud, but also sad that she had to be the one fighting. That he couldn’t protect her from all of the pain, and fear, and danger in the world.

Instead of saying anything in response, Gendry simply took Arya’s hand in his and lightly kissed her forehead.

“We can talk about everything later. For now, let’s just get your wounds taken care of,” he said as he began to lead her out of forge towards the castle, periodically stealing glances at her beautiful grey eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, finally they meet again, my heart!! I'm having so much fun writing this! This is my first time ever writing fanfiction, and the response has been so wonderful so far, so thank you for all of your kind words! There will be at least one more chapter after this one so stay tuned if you are interested!


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